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Wednesday, April 19, 2017

A Rose By Any Other Name (#pseudonym #erotica #lesbian @EmilyByrne)

By
Emily L. Byrne (Guest Blogger)

When
I first began writing erotica, I opted not to use a pseudonym. I was
temping at the time, Google didn’t exist and nobody really cared
what I did in my off hours (AKA: The Good Old Days, more or less).
Periodically, coworkers or acquaintances would find out that I wrote
and had published work in various genres and they would occasionally
bring it into work to have me sign it. It didn’t happen often, so
it stayed flattering and fun, right up until it was very much not the
book of mine that I would have suggested to that particular colleague
at that particular job.

By
then, Google was very definitely a thing, as were workplace computer
network filters of various kinds and my temping days were behind me.
For about three minutes, I sat there and blinked and wondered what to
say next. All I could see was a potential HR moment that would not
end well for me. I think this is probably a thing that happens to a
lot of erotica writers with day jobs: maybe you're not ready for the
PTA or work or the neighbors to know what kind of writing you do. Or
maybe you'd just rather pick the right time to share your fabulous
erotica-writing self. There's a lot to be said for coming out in your
own time in circumstances that you can more or less handle.

As
it happened, no unpleasantness ensued with my "No, not that
one!" coworker, but I went home later on that week and created
Other Me, Emily L. Byrne. Honestly, the situation did me a favor,
since Other Me should have been around a long time ago for marketing
purposes. Like many writers, I write in multiple genres, including
erotica, romance, fantasy, science fiction, horror, literary and
nonfiction, even the occasional mystery and what I found was that
people who weren’t fans of erotica tended to be wary of buying my
other work. And, of course, fans of my erotica read my dark fantasy
novel about menopausal werewolves and politely yelled at me for
months after it came out because there was no sex in it. So marketing
definitely played into my decision as well.

As
to why picked the name I did, I’ve always fancied the name ‘Emily,'
‘L’ is for the first letter of my last name and Byrne is an old
family name, and voila! Emily L. Byrne was born. I did my due
diligence and verified that no other writers of erotica or erotica or
erotic romance were using the same name. A new (at least to me)
writer did pop up soon thereafter with a similar name and genre,
which is something to bear in mind when choosing an Other You. You
want a good pseudonym if that's the direction you looking to go, but
it's challenging to get that balance between unique, findable and
odd. I freely admit to not being keen on the more “obvious”
pseudonyms, in part because I wanted something that I could be
comfortable talking about in the context of my other work. Emily was
someone I could live with, someone I could trot out on a writing
panel or at an author reading with an breezy "And if you're
interested, I also write hot smutty stories as..." and not feel
silly.

The
flip side of that is building up an equivalent amount of name
recognition. I published everything under my own name for over a
decade so getting Emily up and running as a recognizable name in a
changing genre was a tad challenging to start with. But I'm
optimistic that readers are starting to find "Other Me."
And with that, here's an excerpt from my new book, Knife's Edge:
Kinky Lesbian Erotica.

Hope
you enjoy it!

If you do, and you'd like a free copy of the book, just leave me a comment! I'll randomly draw one winner. Don't forget to include your email address so I can find you if you win!

Except
from "Reunion at St. Mary's”

Bridget
Marie Riordan O’Halloran was depressed. It wasn’t so much that
work was insanely stressful, though that was part of it. Or that Vic
and all her friends seemed to have forgotten her birthday, though
that didn’t help. It was the clipping from the parish newspaper,
sent courtesy of her mother, that put her over the edge. Sister Agnes
Mercy Byrnes had been taken up to Heaven, or so it said.

From
what Bridget remembered of her, she was more likely to be torturing
the Devil below than hovering on a cloud above but where she was
didn’t matter so much as the fact that she was gone. It was the
passing of an era. Sister Agnes had been the terror, among other
things, of Bridget’s high school years. It was hard to forget the
hours she spent over the years masturbating over her memories of the
spanking the nun had once given her in the principal’s office.
Imagining those firm hands on her young flesh gave her a thrill even
now. She pictured Sister Agnes going even further and pulling down
her white virginal panties and…Vic walked in a moment later to find
her with her hand between her legs.

“Hi
sweetie. Ooh, that looks like fun. What triggered this?” Vic
grabbed the little clipping as Bridget jerked her hand out of her
pants. Vic gave her a look of pure disbelief. “You’re jilling off
to Sister Agnes’ obituary?”

Bridget
turned bright red and tried to come up with a good explanation. Then
she gave up and went on the attack instead. “You forgot my
birthday! Some girlfriend you are.” She crossed her arms over her
chest to hide the nipples poking through her shirt. Sister Agnes’
hands had been pretty amazing in that last fantasy.

“I
knew you were going to say that,” Vic grinned triumphantly as she
dropped onto the couch. She ran one hand down Bridget’s thigh with
a possessive pressure that never failed to make her pay attention.
“I’ve got a little surprise for you, babe. Kind of appropriate
too, given your new ghoulish hobby. We’re going to your tenth high
school reunion. My treat.”

Bridget’s
jaw dropped. No way. Sister Julia and Father Williams would run them
out of Sacred Heart parish at the head of a torch-wielding mob. Vic
just didn’t understand how things worked at parochial school. But
before she could say a word, Vic had her in a liplock that soon
turned to other things. Once Vic was holding Bridget down and
pounding her fist into her wet and desperate pussy, going home for
the reunion sounded just fine. Besides, it was two months away; she
had plenty of time to change Vic’s mind.

But
somehow, they never got around to talking about it. Every time she
tried, Vic was too busy or was all over her so she gave up, resigning
herself to the trip from hell. It would be even worse if they ended
up staying with her parents. She just hoped her mother wouldn’t say
the rosary over them when she thought they were sleeping again.

Despite
all her worries, she did start to wonder if some of her old friends
would be there. Monica came out after graduation. That was
inevitable. If James Dean was ever reincarnated as a Catholic high
school girl, Monica was it. Then there was Mary Eileen. She’d never
forget that one sleepover party where they all decided to practice
kissing. From what she could remember, Mary Eileen wanted to practice
a few other things too, but they’d all been too scared to try them.
As for the rest of the girls who ran around with them, well if
Bridget knew her budding Dykes on Bikes chapter, they were it by now.

By
the time they got ready to leave town, Bridget was pretty much
resigned to the trip. It made it easier that Vic was so very
obviously up to something. That was usually a good thing. Bridget
even resisted taking a peek in the toy bag when she loaded it in the
car. No point in spoiling the surprise, whatever it was. At least
they were staying at a hotel and not her parent’s, so no matter
what, there was a bright side.

Vic
wasn’t letting anything slip, though. She was too tired for sex in
the hotel they stopped at halfway there, which was weird, and she
wasn’t talking much during the drive, which was weirder. Bridget
was getting antsy and it brought out the pushy bottom in her. She
wheedled, she whined, she sulked; anything to get Vic to do something
with or to her. Anything at all. She squirmed against the fabric of
the car seat imagining a few of those things. But for the first time
in years, Vic wasn’t going for it. She smiled when Bridget pouted
and stonewalled when she whined until her girlfriend thought she’d
go nuts before they got there.

About
the Author

Emily
L. Byrne is a geek who lives in Minneapolis with her wife and the
cats that own them. Her stories have appeared in
Bossier, Spy Games, Forbidden Fruit, First, Summer Love, Best Lesbian
Erotica 20th
Anniversary Edition, The Princess’ Bride, The Nobilis Erotica
Podcast
and The
Mammoth Book of Uniform Erotica.
She can be found at http://writeremilylbyrne.blogspot.com/
and @emilylbyrne.

Knife’s
Edge: Kinky Lesbian Erotica
by Emily L. Byrne is available from Amazon,
Smashwords
and the Queen of Swords Press website
in other formats.

7 comments:

Terrific excerpt there. I remember that story well as the most-commented upon piece from my anthology Lesbian Lust: Red Hot Erotica. While I'm here, I'll mention that the anthology Emily refers to in her bio as The Princess's Bride has been retitled Witches, Princess's, and Women at Arms: Erotic Lesbian Fairy Tales, and just came out in Kindle two days ago (paperback comes out on May 9th.) Emily's story "Toads, Diamonds and the Occasional Pearl" combines her two major genres, speculative fiction and erotica, which is a neat trick when you can do it.